Illusions
by SoundzofSilence
Summary: It is after the Chaos Wars. Crysania finds herself alone, missing Raistlin, whom she loved but her ambitions were more important. Does she regret her decision now that he is dead?


**AN:** _This is post-Chaos Wars, three years after to be exact! Refresher for those with fuzzy memories and those who don't mind spoilers: Crysania had embarked with Raistlin years before on a journey that would turn him into an almighty deity. His brother, Caramon, had rescued her from the Abyss, but she was forever blind. Paladine had given her second sight (like Merlin), and a white tiger guardian to guide her around. _

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"That's a nice drawing."

Crysania glanced up from her sketch to her left where a young female voice had come from. "Who are you, child?" she inquired, surprised that someone was there. She hadn't heard any footsteps approaching…

Whispered words of magic filled the air and Crysania almost panicked upon hearing the foreign, spidery words. _Raistlin._ She blinked in surprise when she could **see**.

The Revered Daughter looked down at what she had been sketching. The picture horrified her. A detailed, familiar Black Robe stood in front of twisted black gates and behind the spindly gates loomed the Palanthas Tower of High Sorcery with gnarled trees surrounding the path. _He_ had his golden hand outstretched toward her, that confident smirk on his face. Around his feet were hands that waited to drag her under and specters looming in the shadows of the trees.

A quiet shuffle startled Crysania and she sharply turned to her head.

Beside her was a young girl, no more than twelve, with carrot-red hair that hung to her chest. Her eyes were an intense blood-red and the skin on her was a light baby pink. She wore a brown robe with a brown headband that represented high importance on her brow.

"How are you able to do magic in the house of Paladine? How is it that I can see?" She asked, shocked that magic _could_ be performed in the Temple. The grounds were sacred! Magic-users were forbidden on Temple grounds and those that trespassed or performed magic on the grounds were punished by Paladine himself!

The strange girl smiled. "He allowed me. This is a temporary illusion. May I have that?" She pointed at the drawing Crysania had finished. The Revered Daughter handed it to her, feeling a burden lift from her chest as her hand left the drawing.

The girl grinned as she studied the black-and-white sketch. When she held it toward Crysania, the canvas was colored. The sun was setting to the left as the shadows ran to the right. The disembodied hands clawed the ground and the specters faded in and out in the rustling, convoluted tree branches. Raistlin's dark robes blew gently in the breeze and his fingertips gestured towards her, urging her.

Crysania couldn't help but stare. It looked so real! She wanted to reach out and-

"You loooooove Raistlin!" The young Red Robe cooed before sneering, "How scandalous, Revered Lady—to love someone so dark and unholy! He could taint you. After all, Majere does represent everything you oppose…" The sketch faded to black and white again and her world began to melt. Oil ran down the colors of her eyes, leaving the world in darkness again.

"No!" cried Crysania. She sobbed, disconsolate. Even her tiger couldn't comfort her, so he laid by her feet resting. As much as she tried to convince herself that what she had seen was an illusion, that the Raistlin in the sketch had been an illusion, Crysania could feel her heart yearning for _him_, although _he_ had betrayed her and left her to die in the Abyss.

Tossing aside the sketch on the temple tile floor, Crysania buried her face in her hands. _I hate him, I don't love him! He was always an illusion!_

"Can you be so sure of that?" That mocking tone. That whispery, raspy voice. Her head jerked up and her sightless, watering eyes scanned the room for the location of the voice.

"Yes," she said firmly, "Raistlin was—_is_ an illusion." Her hands clenched as righteous anger reared in her. How dare that girl mock her pain! This time she wouldn't be affected so easily.

"Can an illusion be summoned?" A thin, unusually warm hand gently pulled her black hair behind her left ear. "You summoned me, Revered Daughter. What is it you wish to tell me?"

To her horror, Crysania recognized that it was _him_. "Summoned you? I have done no such thing!" She jerked her head away from the gentle hand as her heart cried for more.

"Then I am not needed here." His mystic staff made a soft clinking as his presence grew weaker and weaker.

Crysania suddenly stood from her chair and took a step forward. "Raistlin! I-I…" She faltered. She couldn't do it. Even if it was an illusion.

"Yes?" He had stopped and taken a step towards her.

"I-I…don't think you should tarry long."

"I see," Raistlin replied quietly. He was mocking her. His staff clunked as he went. She tried to hold it in, she honestly tried, but she knew that _he_ was almost gone. Gone forever.

"Raistlin!" She blindly ran two steps forward, one hand outstretched in vain to touch him—his back, his shoulder, his arm—just one more time. "I-I love you! All those years alone, I couldn't bear it! It was better to think of you as an illusion! I love you!"

In front of her came the soft sound of mocking chuckles. H-He had tricked her! Tricked her into thinking he had gone!

"You! You tricked me!" Crysania gasped, mortified and horrified as she hurriedly turned her back to him to hide her embarrassment. She was such a fool. In her mind's eye, she could picture his classic smirk forming on his lips now, and the ridicule in his warped eyes that played in the light of the gold by the hourglasses.

The Reverend Daughter covered her face with her hands, very tempted to cry again. Why couldn't Caramon have left her in the Abyss?

"That fool is too kindhearted. I knew you did not think of me as an illusion." His fingers ran down her forearm, making her shiver in delight and disgust. Just like before. "I had to trick you to show you that I am not an illusion. I never was." His soft whispery voice was right next to her ear.

"Go away," cried Crysania miserably. "Stay away from me."

"And yet you do not pull away as you did before." He gently pulled her hands from her face, keeping them trapped in one hand. "Do you truly want me to stay away from you? Is that what you want?" His warm breath was on her face and she flushed. Raistlin dropped her hands. "I will stay away from you forever, if you wish."

"No!" She blindly grabbed for the Black Robe and hugged him. "Please don't go. Not again." He held her and stroked her long, silky hair. She had no idea if he was humoring her, or if he embraced her because he returned her feelings.

"I must. Paladine only allows so much." His voice was quiet and full of regret that stunned the Revered Daughter. Reluctantly, she let go and stepped back, feeling a long depression coming her way in the near future.

Crysania turned her face to the floor. "I am only distracting you." She heard him step forward and his warm hand curled under her chin, lifting her head up with his thumb and curled pointer finger.

"Even if this is only a dream for me, it is the best so far," he whispered softly before he kissed her. They spent several moments like that before he pulled back. "I must leave you now, Crysania. May the gods watch over you."

"No, Raistlin!" She tried to grab him, pull him back, but she felt him dissolve between her fingers. Tears ran from her bright blue eyes that would never see again.

Raistlin had called her by her name.

He had never done that before...Perhaps he had changed. Maybe she had really succeeded…

Her fingers brushed her tingling lips in remembrance. Maybe she had…

She heard the bizarre magician girl laughing cruelly. "You would like to think that, wouldn't you, Reverend Daughter? You never know what you got 'til it's gone."

Crysania wept.


End file.
